


in vino veritas

by AccursedSpatula



Series: astra inclinant, sed non obligant [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: #winetime, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ardyn backstory, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Established Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Major Illness, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, Suicidal Ideation, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula/pseuds/AccursedSpatula
Summary: “In seven years, how have I never brought you down here for the harvest?” he mused, twisting his reins in his hand, a distant look to his eyes, and Gilgamesh could almost hear the fluttering of parchment and filings as Ardyn filtered through nearly a decade of memories. “And you’ve been to our southern villa─”“A fair number of times, yes.”“─so many times, how did Ineverbring you here for the harvest?” Ardyn finished, shaking his head.“I don’t know,” Gilgamesh said, with a slight shrug. “Perhaps you didn’t know I liked wine.”





	in vino veritas

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read as always by the talented [sordes.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes)
> 
> Title from the Latin phrase of "In wine, there is truth." Nearly titled "bibo ergo sum", _I drink, therefore I am._ Set two years post si vales valeo.
> 
> Thanks to my crew of [Sauronix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix), [aliatori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori), and [roadsoftrial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadsoftrial).

“How long have we known each other?”

“Seven years,” Gilgamesh answered from beside him, not missing a beat. Ardyn raised his brows, blinking in surprise.

“That long?”

“Yes,” Gilgamesh confirmed. “Middle age is catching up to you, Ardyn.” Ardyn ignored the slight, still too distraught over the realization before him. Gilgamesh reached down and patted the neck of his sable, which snorted in response.

“In seven years, how have I _never_ brought you down here for the harvest?” he mused, twisting his reins in his hand, a distant look to his eyes, and Gilgamesh could almost hear the fluttering of parchment and filings as Ardyn filtered through nearly a decade of memories. “And you’ve been to our southern villa─”

“A fair number of times, yes.”

“─so many times, how did I _never_ bring you here for the harvest?” Ardyn finished, shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Gilgamesh said, with a slight shrug. “Perhaps you didn’t know I liked wine.”

“I’ve personally seen you drain your fair share of amphores,” Ardyn retorted. “Which reminds me, I’ll have to have the vilicus lock the cellar...”

“To protect it from myself or from you?”

Ardyn pursed his lips for a moment before grinning and breaking off into a slight chuckle. “Well played.”

“Remember that when I’ve drunk you out of house and home.” Gilgamesh smiled, cocky, nudging his horse on ahead of Ardyn’s. Ardyn snorted in response, straightening up in the saddle, reaffirming his grip on the reins.

Around them, the landscape was a beautiful sweep of gentle hills, rolling all the way to the horizon, fuzzed over with lush, green grass and dotted by the occasional cluster of dark, leafy trees. The warm wind blew the grasses in green-gold waves, rushing up towards the hills like the shore, and everything seemed so calm, so far removed from the hectic hustle and bustle they’d left behind at the capitol.

In truth it was a welcome escape, both for Gilgamesh and Ardyn. Despite the seven years of service to house Izunia, Gilgamesh had never quite considered their capitol his _home_ (although having Ardyn at his side had certainly made it feel that way at times), and he often relished the chance to leave the city, especially in lieu of the far calmer, far simpler countryside. Out here there were just farmers, shepherds, and the occasional estate, all spread out over leagues, a stark contrast to the cluttered, winding roads and alleys of the city, stuffed with both citizens and chaos.

Ardyn had run himself ragged over the last few months, caught between his brother’s reelection campaign and the associated wining, dining, favor garnering, and appearances, and his own mounting responsibilities at the valetudinaria within the capitol. The Scourge had reached a terrible peak in the last year, nearly causing a panic in the city before it stemmed down, the numbers of new infected slowing to a trickle, the lowest it had been in years. Ardyn had worked diligently to quarantine the appropriate areas and push treatments to slow progression of the disease in the early stages, often staying at the hospitals and clinics through the night, wandering home just before drawn broke. It had worked, however, turning the tide for at least the time being; Gilgamesh had even heard rumors of the disease being _cured._

But it had certainly taken a toll on Ardyn; the near ceaseless toil had darkened the circles under his eyes and given him a dull, glassy stare when he wasn’t engaged, had made him scatterbrained and foggy, prone to confusion and forgetfulness, had drained him of color and energy and... life, really. Gilgamesh hoped that a few weeks away from duty and obligation and the constant reminder of the disease would do him good, give him time to recover before he pushed himself too far.

He seemed already in better spirits, bright eyed and making more conversation than he had in weeks while riding on a fetching chestnut beside Gilgamesh at the back of their cadre. Somnus was up front, mounted on his preening black chocobo ( _“My brother always has to make an entrance, you know.”_ ), the company beside him seated on matching white mares. In the middle was the carriage, laden with their belongings; although their southern family estate was fully stocked and staffed, Ardyn had found that despite his proclaimed detachment for the material, he had a great many things he couldn’t be parted from, and Somnus was evidently the same.

The estate was the better part of a day’s ride away from the capitol, and their troupe had set off early that morning. But now, as the sun crawled once more towards the horizon line in the west, Gilgamesh could smell the salt air of the ocean, which meant they weren't far now. The southern Izunia family estate was nestled just inland off the coast, one of several large tracts surrounding a small city scattered up and down a rocky collection of jagged cliffs along the water, all of it quaint and rather charming.

Sure enough, another hour on horseback brought them over the final bend that led down into the low valley where the estate proper sat, a cluster of white buildings with red pantiled roofs arranged at the crest of a hill. Around it were the vineyards, rows and rows of grape vines on canopies, dark green rows neatly stitched onto a dusky brown, earthen quilt.

The vilicus and the other staff were there to greet them as their procession passed the front gate, most of them fawning over Somnus. News of his successes and new campaign had reached here weeks ago, carried on the tongues of merchants and travellers, and the servants regarded him with a sort of fond curiosity as they rode up to the main house.

Ardyn seemed to take brief note, sighing at the sight before tossing his gaze somewhere off in the rows of canopies instead, ignoring Somnus as he was greeted by a cluster of servants, an arrival as flashy as the bird he’d rode in on. The vilicus, a well built man that Gilgamesh would place at the high end of ‘middle aged,’ with a thick shock of dark gray hair, was instantly at his side, greeting Somnus warmly before leading him away from the gaggle.

Gilgamesh swung off his horse, taking the reins of Ardyn’s chestnut as he, too, dismounted, wandering away from the crowd towards the low stone wall that separated the estate grounds from the vineyards. Gilgamesh kept a cautionary eye on him, holding the horses for a moment before one of the stable hands took them from him, and then set off after him just as Ardyn vaulted over the stone wall and meandered among the aisles of grapes.

Gilgamesh cleared the wall with ease, catching up to Ardyn midway down one of the aisles. He was poking and prodding one of the vines, pushing some of the leaves out of the way to examine the bunches of grapes there, but looked over as Gilgamesh approached, his footfalls heavy in the dirt.

“These aren’t pruned right,” he said, holding up one of the bunches of white grapes, careful to leave it attached to the vine, as if Gilgamesh were supposed to be able to recognize whatever it was that Ardyn saw so clearly. “I hope the rest of the vignettes aren’t in such a state. I’ll have to speak to Galerius.”

Gilgamesh looked at the grapes, still unable to discern whatever it was that Ardyn was getting at. He nodded, slowly, as a sign of support, but Ardyn caught on, shaking his head and smiling.

“They’re small,” he said. “There are too many grapes on the vine, and consequently, they’re all small.” With a sharp tug, Ardyn twisted the bunch he was holding off the vine, tugging two of the grapes free before popping them into his mouth.

“Normally they’re pruned─we call it a green harvest. They take some of the bunches off the vine so that the remaining grapes grow larger,” he continued, yanking another grape off and handing it to Gilgamesh.

Giving the vine one last sad once-over, Ardyn turned and stepped past Gilgamesh, beginning to march back to the estate. He made it maybe three yards away before he stopped, looking back.

“Are you coming?” Ardyn tore another grape off. “Somnus’ fanfare is bound to have died down by now.”

He smiled impishly, holding out the grapes as if to further entice Gilgamesh, who followed.

\---

 

They’d spent most of the evening in the triclinium, Somnus entertaining his guests over a generous meal. Though not as vivacious as Somnus, Ardyn had indulged in his fair share of wordplay, not quite going toe to toe with his brother, but certainly serving as a reminder that the spotlight could easily be stolen, if Somnus’ reactions were anything to judge by. But it had set Gilgamesh at ease to see him so active, after so many long weeks of finding him so subdued and withdrawn.

Ardyn had retired to his own set of chambers after stealing a few kisses in one of the dark hallways of the second floor, although Gilgamesh had half-expected him to turn up as he settled down in his own rooms. Despite his exhaustion from the ride out, the company would have been welcome, as it always was, but Ardyn hadn’t materialized, and Gilgamesh had let sleep take him.

He’d woken to the quiet of birds chirping and insects singing in a chorus, which was at first disorienting, as Gilgamesh was expecting the normal cries of merchants as they wandered the streets, the banging and clacking of carts drawn across the stone roads, the sharp clack of hooves from horses and oxen. There’d been a sharp point of realization as Gilgamesh shook off the chains of sleep, one where he realized his surroundings were different than he was accustomed to, and as he’d blinked himself awake in a mild panic he’d quickly recalled the events of the day prior.

Leisurely he’d risen and dressed himself, wandering the halls for a bit before making his way outside. One of the servants had spotted him and dragged him off to the culina, plying him with smoked meats and fruits before sending him out through the peristylium. Gilgamesh had wandered through the courtyard and out the back gate, watching the servants come and go from the vineyards, most hauling large rounded baskets full of grapes.

It had been easy enough to spot Ardyn, his mane of wild red hair catching Gilgamesh’s eye as he surveyed the hills in the early morning light. Ardyn had come to him before Gilgamesh had a chance to make his way out to the vineyards, giving him a wave of acknowledgement as he headed toward the gate.

“I see you finally decided to join the rest of the living,” Ardyn teased as he crossed the grounds, eyeing the fig Gilgamesh held, the last of the spoils from the culina. Gilgamesh handed it over as Ardyn stopped before him.

“I’m a guest here, aren’t I?” Gilgamesh shot back, and Ardyn laughed before biting into the fig with abandon.

“I suppose we won’t work you _too_ hard, then,” he retorted.

“So I can expect a light day of stomping grapes while sipping last year’s vintage?”

“Treading?” Ardyn questioned. “We don’t do that. That’s for the servants. The _actual_ servants.”

“Oh.” Gilgamesh hummed in surprise. “So you’ve never done it?”

“No,” Ardyn said, definitive.

“Shame,” Gilgamesh replied. “It looks fun. I was rather hoping I’d get to try it.”

“I won’t stop you, but I may embarrass you with that story in the future.” Ardyn wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “I need to find Galerius and my brother. Walk with me?”

“Of course.”

They meandered around to the side of the estate, to a separate shed that housed the press and the large, cement basin for treading, two of the serving girls currently working over the grapes, robes pulled high on their legs to keep them clean.

Gilgamesh was instantly drawn to the press, set in a matching basin beside the one for treading, sloped to one end with a spigot to drain the juice. The press itself was a long beam horizontally joining a windlass and a basket; as the windlass turned, it lowered the beam and pushed down on the basket, compressing whatever was inside. It was ingenious, really, but undoubtedly expensive to construct, and Gilgamesh busied himself with examining the windlass as Ardyn found Somnus and the vilicus, poring over the baskets of grapes stored outside the shed, waiting to be pressed.

They were close enough that Gilgamesh could hear their conversation, though he tuned it out in lieu of watching the pressing. It was only when Ardyn’s tone changed sharply that he began to listen, tensing up slightly.

“─and what do you mean, _taken ill_?”

The vilicus cleared his throat. “Yes, dominus. His daughter fell sick and the rest soon followed.”

“So the master vintner of the estate falls ill, a man who’s served our family for two generations, and no one goes to look after him?”

“They say it’s the plague, dominus. Th-the Scourge,” the vilicus commented. “No one could look after him.”

“Why did no one tell me?” Ardyn said, raking a hand through his hair.

“I explained the situation to─”

“He told me,” Somnus said, cool as ever. “It must have slipped my mind to pass along to you.”

Ardyn let out a sharp breath. “Where is the family now?”

“They quarantined them at the house,” Somnus said. “What else is there to do? No sense in rushing off to play doctor.”

Ardyn sighed, ignoring the slight and instead looking away, out at the horizon. The silence hung about them for a long beat, Gilgamesh wondering if Ardyn were going to let the insult stand, trying to read his expression but finding it blank, an empty canvas untouched by a brush.

Eventually Ardyn took a small step back, distancing himself from the other two. “I don’t _play_ at being a doctor, brother, I _am_ one,” he said, “but I suppose you may have forgotten that between all the wining and dining and related strains of being an elected official.” He turned with a half shrug, slowly walking off in the direction of the stables.

Somnus just shook his head, dismissing the vilicus before stalking off to the estate himself. Gilgamesh lingered in the shed, now silent save for the sounds of the windlass and the girls treading, giving Ardyn a long head start before he wandered out. He could see Ardyn in the stables, tacking his chestnut in one of the stalls, saddle thrown on its back, Ardyn tightening the straps before moving on to bridle and bit.

He rode out a few minutes later, at a trot through their grounds, kicking into a full canter after he passed the gate. Gilgamesh let him go without so much as a look; only once Ardyn was clear of the estate did he head to the stables himself. Carefully, he tacked his own horse, leading it out and to the gate with no sense of urgency about him, a few of the servants throwing worried looks his way, no doubt uneasy about their dominus’ sudden departure.

Gilgamesh mounted his sable outside the gate, moving into a trot across the fields. Ardyn was easy to track, his chestnut leaving deep prints in the soft soil, and Gilgamesh had no trouble picking up his trail.

He already knew where it would lead.

\---

 

Death hung about the house like a shroud.

Gilgamesh could feel it as he drew upon the structure, his sable at a trot. It was a small house, really, sitting just off the Izunia estate’s tract, no doubt granted to Galerius at some point during his years of service. The house itself was surrounded by a quaint little farm and pens for livestock, all missing, but everything about it was lifeless and so still, even the air, suffocating and stagnant. Ardyn’s chestnut was tied to a tree outside, and although in full leaf the thing seemed drained of life as well, no birds singing in its branches, no insects humming about.

Dismounting, Gilgamesh tied his sable beside the chestnut before heading up to the front doors. He could see that there was a black slash painted across them─a sign of the plague, a sign to stay out, black like the lesions that erupted across infected skin, black like the pustules that formed, black like the fluid the afflicted wept and bled.

He lingered at the door, tracing the paint, the little rivulets that had run down before drying. _Dare he proceed?_ Ardyn spent his days among the sick and had never come down with the scourge himself, Gilgamesh knew, but he was careful, and he was also _blessed_ with powers beyond their understanding, which no doubt attributed to his immunity (and more likely was the sole cause of it).

Swallowing thickly, Gilgamesh reached for the door pull, lifting the iron circle and easing the door open. Instantly he could smell the musty stench of illness and decay, turning his stomach, and he took a moment to steel himself before stepping inside.

The interior of the house was somehow more devoid of life than the exterior had been, something Gilgamesh almost found hard to believe. He could see the dust hanging in the air, caught in the sunbeams, seeming not to move at all, just suspended, as if time itself had stopped. Gilgamesh moved through the foyer to cross the atrium, the impluvium covered in algae and mold floating amid the water.

Off the atrium he checked the master bedroom first, finding an older man and a woman there─no doubt Galerius and his wife. They bore no signs of the scourge, at least none that Gilgamesh could see from where they slept, the wife in the bed, Galerius on a cot beside her.

The second bedroom bore two boys, twins from the looks of them, young, both asleep in a wide bed. They seemed healthy, too, untouched by the scourge, and the only thing that Gilgamesh could note were a handful of faint scars along their arms, easy enough to write off as the marks of a rough boyhood spent outdoors.

His footsteps were the only sounds echoing about the house until he heard a cough, faint and soft and weak, coming from one of the rooms off the atrium. He stopped and changed course, heading towards the sound, crossing the threshold out of the atrium and into the last cubiculum.

He lingered in the doorway, taking stock of the room. Ardyn was there, on the edge of the bed pushed in the corner opposite from the doorway, seated beside a very pale, young woman lying against the pillows, his back to Gilgamesh. Even in the dim light of the room Gilgamesh could see the mottled lesions on her arms as Ardyn held her hand, scaling in thick, ugly patches.

With his free hand, Ardyn reached over, running his hand over her face, briefly, and she shut her eyes, slumping slightly. His fingers lingered on her neck, and Gilgamesh could see her clutching Ardyn’s other hand in a white knuckle grip, both of them tense and terse. But the blemishes on her arm faded to pinkish scars, the sores at her neck doing the same. The haunting black lines of her veins eased back to normal hues, faint blue in patches, colorless in others, and some of the pink returned to her cheeks, the pallor erased from her skin.

He’d cured her.

Gilgamesh wasn’t quite certain _how_ ─probably, like the rest of Ardyn’s powers, it functioned through means they couldn’t understand─but he was certain that he’d done it, pulled the sickness from her flesh and blood and bone, leaving her as she had been before she’d fallen ill, marked only by a few scars. It was a small price to pay for her life.

On the bed, Ardyn let go of her hand, doubling in on himself, curling up and burying his face in his palms for a long moment. Gilgamesh could clearly see he was in pain, from how his whole torso shook and stuttered with each breath he took, to the tension held in his neck and shoulders, to how his hands trembled even pressed against his face. He wanted to cross the room and hold him, ease whatever was hurting him in this moment, cure him just like he’d cured the woman in the bed, but Gilgamesh had not been graced with such powers. Instead he remained in the doorway, fingers curling into weak fists, feeling as if all his strength, all his hardiness and power had just failed him.

Eventually Ardyn rose, turning to face him for the first time since Gilgamesh had arrived here.

“I’ve done what I can,” he said, quietly, strained, rising with difficulty. “Let’s go.”

Gilgamesh followed him from the house.

\---

 

“Are we going to talk about this?”

They’d just crested the closest set of hills to the house when Ardyn chose to break the stilted silence between them, their horses side by side in a slow walk. It took Gilgamesh a moment to process that he’d said something, so lost in his own thoughts that he’d switched languages, back to his native tongue from common, and he struggled to formulate a reply.

“Talk about what?” he managed to get out. Ardyn had sighed in response, long and shaky, his brow knit together in worry and frustration, but he had said nothing, silence ensnaring them once more.

Ardyn was not well; that much was clear, from how pale he looked now, how unfocused his stare had been as he rigidly untied his chestnut and mounted her, or his white knuckle grip on the reins and saddle horn as they wordlessly rode back. But Gilgamesh didn’t know how to alleviate this sort of pain, didn’t even really understand what he had just witnessed beyond something he’d thought impossible.

Ardyn had been looking for a cure to the scourge since before Gilgamesh had known him; they had met on one of Somnus’ early campaigns in the west, searching for the great libraries of Solheim and subjugating those they encountered along their way. In all those years of seeking Gilgamesh knew Ardyn had found a great many ways to slow the disease, and ways to reduce infection, but never a cure, never something that could inoculate one against the disease nor reverse its course once it had taken root.

But Gilgamesh had seen it. There was a cure.

The more Gilgamesh had pondered it on their ride back, the more other things had fallen into place─Ardyn’s extended visits to the valetudinaria, his declining health, the reduction in new cases of the plague, even the rumors of a cure. Ardyn had to have been doing this for weeks, for _months,_ all in secret. 

“Though... it does explain some things,” Gilgamesh said at long last. Ardyn was staring aimlessly at the mane of his chestnut, and didn’t bother to look up, his hair falling into his face.

“I’m sorry,” Ardyn replied.

“For what?”

“The secrecy.” Ardyn paused, and Gilgamesh could see him set his jaw, his eyes still obscured from view by his hair. “I should’ve told you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Gilgamesh returned. “I’m not upset.” In truth, he was, deep down, filled with an urge to shake Ardyn at the shoulders and berate him for doing something so clearly risky, so clearly adverse to his own well being, and for continuing to do it, for risking himself and his livelihood when he meant so much to Gilgamesh, who couldn’t even bear to think about a life without Ardyn, but he couldn’t find any anger in himself. Ardyn had done what he saw as right and necessary, Gilgamesh was certain of that; he never would have pursued this avenue otherwise. And as much as he selfishly loved Ardyn, and Ardyn selfishly loved him back, they were both duty bound to things far larger than themselves.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he added. “Ever.”

“I know,” Ardyn said, his voice low and congested. “I didn’t... I don’t want to do this. But so many of them die every day, and this _works,_ and... I just need more time. I’m so close to a real cure, a medicinal one, I can _feel_ it, but until then I just need to buy time.”

He finally turned to look at Gilgamesh, blinking, forcing a few tears free, ones that were the color of jet, trailing down Ardyn’s face like brush strokes. Gilgamesh couldn’t hide the shock on his face; the sclera of Ardyn’s eyes was mottled black as well, and he had more of the same dark ichor beading at the corner of his mouth. Instinctively, he reached for Ardyn, intending to swipe away the tears with his thumb, but Ardyn recoiled, almost in fright.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, carefully bringing a fold of his own robes to his face. “I just... need a moment.”

Gilgamesh withdrew his hand. “Is it contagious?”

“No,” Ardyn admitted. “My body fights it, tries to heal itself the way it does with other things. Sometimes it just takes a bit.” He wiped away the last of his tears, releasing the corner of his robes, sniffling as he composed himself.

“How long have you been doing this?” Gilgamesh asked.

Ardyn shifted in the saddle. “Maybe half a year. I didn’t do so many at the start, just here and there.”

“Then how many have you...?”

“Maybe a few hundred. Maybe more.”

Gilgamesh looked towards the horizon line, trying to push dark thoughts from his mind. “What happens if you don’t find that cure?”

“Then I continue doing this, saving as many as I can, until it consumes me,” Ardyn answered frankly, and Gilgamesh could hear the waver in his voice. “What’s one life for thousands?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Gilgamesh snapped. “I won’t hear it. Maybe your life has no value to you, but it certainly does to me.”

After a long beat, he added, “I want there to be a future for us.”

Ardyn set his gaze on Gilgamesh once more, full of both pain and affection, swirled together in a mix that both pained Gilgamesh and made his heart swoon, part poison and part panacea. “I don’t deserve you,” Ardyn said. “You’re much too good for me.”

 _Then remember that, the next time you think of throwing yourself away,_ Gilgamesh wanted to say, but he kept silent, instead just smiling sadly and reaching over to curl his hand around Ardyn’s wrist. But Ardyn pulled away, stiffly, keeping his gaze focused on the pommel of his saddle as Gilgamesh withdrew his hand.

“We shouldn’t dally getting back,” he said, kicking his horse into a canter before Gilgamesh could reply.

Gilgamesh let him get a good sixty paces ahead before he did the same.

\---

 

Ardyn was distant thereafter.

Gilgamesh had (perhaps foolishly) assumed that things were settled enough between them, but when they reached the estate, Ardyn had wordlessly dismounted and taken both horses, starting off to the stable. He hadn’t handed them off to a servant, instead electing to unsaddle them himself, an indicator that he had no desire for companionship right now.

And so Gilgamesh gave him the space, wandering out to the vignettes instead, where he was beset upon by a gaggle of the serving girls, eager to show him the proper way to cut the bunches from the vines so as not to harm the plant. They were an amusing lot of provincial girls, clearly taken by this dark, broad shouldered, handsome foreigner who was in the constant company of their dominus, giggling and whispering as their little troupe meandered amidst the canopies.

Ardyn had returned to the estate after he’d unsaddled the horses, some of the other servants reporting that he felt unwell and had retired for the time being. Though Gilgamesh tried to distract himself with the cutting and his newfound group of admirers, he couldn’t quite shove his worries down. Instead they gnawed at him, slowly and steadily, spiraling out as the full magnitude of Ardyn’s revelation sank in.

Gilgamesh was angry, despite his attempts to let it go, to not let the ire rise in him or even take hold at all. He was hurt that Ardyn hadn’t trusted him with this information, this _secret,_ even though rationally he understood why he hadn’t been privy to what Ardyn was doing. And Gilgamesh, too, had been blinded to how severe Ardyn’s condition had become, attributing his ailments simply to overwork, not paying close enough attention to the man he held closest. Above all it stung to know that they were so close, so intimate, but that Ardyn had still felt this was beyond Gilgamesh, even though his intentions were surely to spare Gilgamesh pain. But logic was often swept away by emotion, and Gilgamesh knew he had to just let this anger and pain burn through him like fire across a grassland, turn everything to dust and ash and start anew with fresh green shoots.

Briefly he wondered what he would have done if Ardyn had told him straight away; no doubt he would’ve been angry at the risks to Ardyn’s health and well being, but the secrecy would have been removed from the situation, and that, Gilgamesh realized, was the element that hurt worst of all. While it pained him to see just how much Ardyn had sacrificed pursuing this course of action, Ardyn was his own person, Gilgamesh knew, one with a deeply ingrained sense of altruism, and he would have made the same choices whether or not Gilgamesh approved; there was no sense in trying to get in Ardyn’s way on that, as it would only cause friction between them.

And he knew Ardyn felt guilty over it, over the lying and the secrecy and the... _distrust_ ; that was why he’d sequestered himself, no doubt worried of whatever Gilgamesh would have to say after the fact. And they _would_ have a discussion on it, a frank one, but here and now was neither the place nor the time for it. Rather, Gilgamesh wanted to come to an understanding for the time being, to let Ardyn know that above it all he still cared for and loved him deeply, and table the rest of the discussion for when their lives had resumed and they were both ready to tackle the issue.

Though the time apart had allowed the fire in Gilgamesh’s belly to cool, after an afternoon left to his own thoughts, Gilgamesh was in dire need of a drink.

Luckily for him, the wine was in no short supply as Somnus sought to entertain his guests over their evening meal. It was sweet white wine, from a particularly good vintage two years prior, and Gilgamesh had his cup refilled at least half a dozen times over the course of the meal, chasing away the serving girl who tried to cut his portion with water, as was proper. He wanted it strong, wanted to dull the buzzing in his head, and by the third glass he finally felt _something._

Ardyn was quiet, subdued, really, throughout the entirety of dinner, eating little and saying even less. He picked at scraps here and there from various plates brought out to them, a bit of dried persimmon, some smoked fish, but nothing much of substance, and his conversation was even more meager, his replies brusque, a few carelessly chosen words that sufficed to answer whatever question was lobbed at him.

Somnus became the sole focus of the evening, and he preened under the attention. He didn’t so much as even cast a glance in Ardyn’s direction, though Gilgamesh knew he undoubtedly was aware of Ardyn’s change in demeanor, likely attributing it to Ardyn’s distress over what had befallen Galerius. Clearly, Ardyn’s melancholy meant nothing to him, so long as it didn’t interfere with his plans.

Occasionally Ardyn’s gaze would meet Gilgamesh’s own, and they would lock eyes for a brief moment, Gilgamesh offering up a reassuring smile, and Ardyn responding with a sad grin of his own. Although small, it did a great deal to put Gilgamesh’s spirits at ease, especially when Ardyn once tipped his glass to him in a barely perceptible mock toast.

Somnus’ party had retired to one of the smaller dining rooms to drink, leaving Ardyn and Gilgamesh alone. It lasted but a few minutes, Ardyn draining his cup before rising from his couch, striding smoothly across the floor to set it on one of the remaining trays before doubling back to Gilgamesh. Hesitating for just a moment, he leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to the corner of Gilgamesh’s mouth, smiling wearily as he pulled back.

Gilgamesh had of course returned the gesture.

He’d fallen into a light and dreamless sleep that evening, waking once in the dead of night to the quiet of his room, listening to the insects hum as he pondered what tomorrow might offer. Eventually he’d fallen asleep once more, roused this time by the chirping of the birds as the sun climbed over the horizon.

He’d risen, dressed, combed out the snarls in his hair before pulling it back, and then headed out to the grounds, skipping the culina entirely, a dull ache still between his ears, the result of too much imbibition the night prior. A few of the servants were already out in the vignettes, and Gilgamesh began the search for his gaggle.

They found him a short while later, bringing him back into their fold, though it seemed today they were eating just as many grapes as they were harvesting. It was a quiet, slow morning, full of gossip and faffing about, listening to the birds and the insects and watching the breeze rustle the leaves in the canopies.

Somnus and the vilicus were milling about as well, and Gilgamesh briefly spotted Ardyn on the patio, trying to keep his hair out of his face as he surveyed the vignettes before going back inside.

Things carried on in such a fashion until just shy of midday, when Gilgamesh was getting sick of grapes and craving something more savory, fancying a trip to the culina to raid the stores. He was getting ready to head up to the main house when the girls spotted the rider on the road, a man, clad in a gray cloak and hood, coming up the road to the house.

Curious, Gilgamesh left the girls among the canopies, trudging up the hill back to the house, vaulting over two of the low stone fences with ease. The rider had dismounted, speaking to Somnus and the vilicus while one of the servants tended to the horse, and from the friendly embraces that were exchanged, these men knew one another.

Gilgamesh chuckled to himself as he realized who this man was.

He cleared the last fence and marched up the last straightaway to where they stood, Somnus taking note as he drew closer. Gilgamesh didn’t wait for permission to approach; instead, he continued his confident stride until he was standing on the edge of their circle.

“Gilgamesh,” Somnus said, and his displeasure was clear from his tone, “this is Galerius.”

Gilgamesh turned to the hooded man, who threw back the hood. “The vintner,” Gilgamesh commented, recognizing the man from the house. “It’s good to see you well. We’d heard stories you were ill.”

“We were,” the man replied, and Gilgamesh could see the faint scarring on his neck and hands as he gestured. “Thought it was the Scourge, but no, must have been a pox, thank the Astrals.”

Gilgamesh smiled tersely. “We should summon Ardyn,” he said, waving over one of the serving girls carrying a basket of grapes. “He was rather distressed at your absence; I’m certain he’ll want to see you. You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

“Not at all,” Galerius said. “I’m eager to see him as well.”

Somnus stiffened visibly at the sight of Gilgamesh giving orders to his servants, and involving his brother in all of this, but he said nothing, just gave Gilgamesh a rather guarded stare. “Yes, I suppose we should,” he said, after a long beat of silence.

The girl had set down the grapes and scampered over to Gilgamesh. “Yes, sir?” she asked, giving a little bow to Somnus, and Gilgamesh caught how her eyes flashed with surprise at seeing Galerius.

“Fetch dominus, would you?” he asked. “And please tell him I’ve personally sent for him, otherwise I feel he may give you some excuse in lieu of his presence.”

“Of course, sir.”

She trotted away, picking up her basket once more, and disappeared into the house. The other men made small talk of the harvest and this year’s batch, speculating on what the vintage would be like based on the weather and the condition of the grapes, talk that utterly bored Gilgamesh, who elected to watch the estate in lieu of listening in.

It took but a few minutes for the girl to fetch Ardyn, and then he was coming down the patio, crossing the gardens, the tense line of his brow relaxing as he recognized Galerius beside his brother.

“Galerius,” he said, and there was palpable relief in his voice. “How good to see you.” He pulled the man into a firm hug, releasing him to appraise him at arm’s length.

“You’re looking well,” he said, and Gilgamesh caught the slight waver in his speech. “What a relief to see you after we’d all feared the worst.”

“Likewise, dominus,” Galerius said, with a friendly chuckle.

“Though I would love to walk the vignettes with you, we shouldn’t keep you from your family,” Ardyn said, pulling Galerius away. “Let’s get you some things from the culina to take back and then send you on your way.”

As he turned, he gave Gilgamesh a knowing look, mouthing the words _thank you_ briefly. Gilgamesh dipped his head in a slight nod, feeling the last chains of anxiety binding his heart snap with the little grin Ardyn threw him in response.

 

\---

 

“Dominus desires your company, sir.”

Gilgamesh looked up in mild surprise at the servant who stood on the other side of the canopy, setting the cluster of grapes in his hand down into the basket beside him. “Which dominus?”

“The elder, sir.”

“Oh.” Gilgamesh stood, feeling the subtle ache in his knees as he moved. “Where is he?”

“He’s with the troughs and the press, sir.”

Gilgamesh nodded, drawing in a sharp breath. “Thank you,” he said, and the girl dipped her head before scurrying off.

He gave his little band a wave, all of the girls perking up and waving back, and then trudged off towards the stables and the press. It was well into mid-afternoon now, hot and breezy, the light picking up the golden hue of an impending sunset, and draped over the hills it was rather beautiful.

Ardyn was indeed waiting for him at the press, poring over the lever, though he abandoned it the moment Gilgamesh stepped into the room. The basins were empty, the room deserted save for them and a few baskets of grapes, a bright patch of sunlight cutting in front the doorway.

“Well.”

“Well,” Ardyn said, throwing his hands behind his back, “you said you wanted to try treading. I figured I should let you give it a go.”

“Right now?”

“I see an empty basin and a barrel of grapes, so yes, right now.” Ardyn shrugged. “No time like the present and all.”

“You first,” Gilgamesh said, gesturing to the basin.

“Me?”

“You said you’ve never done it,” Gilgamesh said. “What was that about ‘no time like the present’?”

Ardyn huffed, rolling his eyes and briefly looking away, but it was all playful, and Gilgamesh could see him biting his lower lip to prevent himself from grinning. “Fine,” he said, folding his arms over his chest, sneaking a glance at Gilgamesh.

Satisfied, Gilgamesh leaned down, undoing the clasps on the sides of his boots, rolling his trousers up over the knee before he stepped out of them. Ardyn lifted one of the baskets of white grapes, leaning it against the side of the basin before heaving it over and dumping the contents inside, shaking it out to make certain he’d gotten all of the grapes out. Setting the basket to the side, he traded it for a cask, one that he nudged in place before the spigot at the front of the basin.

With everything in place, Ardyn pulled at the straps to his own shoes, watching as Gilgamesh padded up to the edge of the basin, about to climb in.

“Wash your feet, you barbarian,” Ardyn chided, laughing, jerking his head towards a small, low lying trough of water beside the press. “I’m not drinking wine with notes of your leather boots.”

“They’re fine calf leather; might do something for the flavor,” Gilgamesh replied, hauling the trough over beside the ledge. He stepped into the trough, rinsing his lower legs and feet down, and then hopped directly up onto the ledge and into the basin, avoiding the ground. Ardyn was right behind him, holding his robes out of the way as he cleaned off and then climbed onto the ledge, Gilgamesh holding out a hand to steady him as he stepped down.

“Well,” Ardyn said, gesturing at his sides, “this is it. Is it everything you wanted it to be?”

Testingly, Gilgamesh shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling the grapes pop and crush beneath his toes. “I’m not sure yet.”

Ardyn took a little half step. “Certainly is an... _odd_ sensation.”

“It’s a little fun, don’t lie.” Gilgamesh deliberately crushed a large bunch underfoot, feeling the juice run out as the cluster burst. He gave Ardyn a little push at the shoulder, causing him to stumble and inadvertently shift his footing, undoubtedly stepping on more of the bunches in the process.

Ardyn made a face, a joking grimace, tongue a little pink slip between his lips as he concentrated, arms out to steady himself. He gave Gilgamesh a push in return, aimed at his chest, though it was rather ineffectual given the difference between their builds. Gilgamesh took a tiny step, just to oblige him, Ardyn’s hands lingering on his chest, Gilgamesh laying his arms over Ardyn’s.

They stood there for a moment, neither moving, Ardyn staring blankly at Gilgamesh’s collarbone before him, refusing to look up at him, and Gilgamesh could feel the tension in his arms. Eventually Ardyn drew in a deep breath, fingers twisting slightly in Gilgamesh’s tunic, blinking a few times in rapid succession.

Gilgamesh could feel the million things that Ardyn wanted to say, sensed that he was paralyzed by the million words on his tongue, each fighting for dominance. He had a vague idea of what most of them were, too, between apologies, to maybe a thanks for earlier in the day, or possibly just a reiteration of _I love you,_ something that always made Gilgamesh’s heart swell a bit whenever he heard it.

But before Ardyn could get any of his thoughts together enough to articulate them, Gilgamesh leaned down and kissed him, softly, on the mouth, shifting his hold to Ardyn’s upper arms. It was a response to anything Ardyn could have said, a _there’s nothing to forgive,_ a _you’re welcome,_ and an _I love you too_ rolled into one.

“We’ve a lot of grapes left to crush,” Gilgamesh murmured when they broke, faces still hovering inches from one another.

“I guess we ought to get to it, then,” Ardyn replied, sneaking a quick peck to Gilgamesh’s lips before stepping back, grinning awkwardly as he trod a fresh bunch.

 

\---

Gilgamesh hadn’t expected the knock.

He’d nearly missed it, straining to hear the light raps and discern if it were merely the sounds of the house settling or if someone were indeed in the hall. The servants would all say something, but Ardyn… Ardyn would wait, silent, refusing to announce his presence, lest anyone else in the estate find out he was there. Though Ardyn had certainly been in far, far better spirits that afternoon, his mood markedly better, Gilgamesh hadn’t expected his good humor to carry him all the way here, at _this_ hour, but who else could two light raps mean?

Gilgamesh crossed the room, still wondering if he were going to open the doors and find an empty hall, but deep down hoping otherwise. He undid the latch on the door, and then pulled it back, taking a little step with it.

Ardyn stood in the hall, a tray laden with fruits and nuts and other bites balanced between one arm and his hip, his other hand grasping the thin handle of a decanter and the thick one of a large clay amphore, its stopper still in place. It was surprising to see him standing here so brazenly; even after six years together, with their clandestine relationship the largest open secret at the estate, Ardyn was still very careful about keeping their affairs private and under cover of darkness. Yet here he was, boldly asking for entrance to Gilgamesh’s chambers after hours, means of reverie in hand, one brow confidently cocked as though he didn't have a care in the world.

Maybe he didn't.

“Are you going to let me in?” he asked, pulling Gilgamesh from his thoughts. “Or am I drinking by myself tonight?” He hefted the amphore, emphasizing its weight.

Gilgamesh stepped back, Ardyn slipping into the room without hesitation, sauntering across the room towards the wooden doors to the balcony as Gilgamesh shut the door to the hall. Ardyn stopped before the double doors, turning to face Gilgamesh, who followed as Ardyn jerked his head towards the doorway.

“Little help?”

“Certainly.” Gilgamesh unlatched them, pushing both open and leaving them that way as he followed Ardyn out onto the balcony.

Outside it was warm, a sluggish breeze winding over the hills, carrying the songs of all the wildlife out and about at the hour, the chorus of insects and the occasional baying of something larger in the distance. Ardyn busied himself with unstopping the amphore and kneeling down to pour its contents into the decanter, while Gilgamesh surveyed the dark horizon, studying the line where the sky met the earth before his gaze meandered up to the stars and the low, fat, full moon.

“What’s the occasion?” Gilgamesh asked as Ardyn put the stopper in the amphore once more, setting it near the wall.

“It’s a revered festival, dating back centuries,” Ardyn said, reaching over to the tray and pulling the two cups from it, cleverly stashed between a bunch of grapes and dark berries, “so old that we’ve lost the real name for it, so instead we just call it ‘because I wanted to.’”

Gilgamesh snorted as he sat down beside Ardyn, the tray before them, and Ardyn picked up the decanter, starting to fill one of the polished cups. “This,” he began, glancing up once at Gilgamesh, his eyes catching the silver light from the moon, “is a seven year old vintage of Aminean grapes, with part of it boiled and then added back to the batch before it was racked.” He said all of this as though it meant something to Gilgamesh, whose understanding of wine stopped really at _white, red, sweet, dry_ and _lora (“Don’t drink that, it’s for the servants.”)._

Ardyn set the full cup before Gilgamesh, trading it out for the empty one, which he promptly set about filling. “It also happens to be one of my favorites.”

He raised his full cup as he set the decanter next to the tray, Gilgamesh raising his own glass in acknowledgment, before glancing between the decanter and the amphore.

“No water?” he said, bringing his glass to his lips. He could smell how strong it was, sharp and acidic. Normally such wines were cut with water upon serving to prevent them from being so overpowering.

“Just keep it away from the lamps and the brazier,” Ardyn said before taking a healthy sip, his eyes widening slightly as it hit his tongue, clearly stronger than he had anticipated. “Though it certainly does have some body to it.”

Gilgamesh took his own matching sip, the wine sharp and sweet on his tongue, and certainly _strong._ But Ardyn had taste─it was certainly one of the best wines Gilgamesh had ever sampled, and he knew they’d have no problem draining the decanter between them.

“Do you suppose what we pressed today will be as good?” Gilgamesh said, partly serious, partly in jest. He really had no idea on these things; Ardyn was the one who’d grown up among it.

Ardyn shrugged slightly. “I’d hope so,” he began, “but I suppose we won’t know until we try it and find out.”

“How long does it age?”

“A year.” Ardyn replied, reaching for a handful of berries off the tray. “I suppose we’ll just have to make another trip out here around then.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.” Ardyn mischievously popped one into his mouth. “I take my _vino_ very seriously.”

There was a comfortable beat of silence between them, and Gilgamesh knew the same thought was on both of their minds, the question of _would Ardyn even be here among them in a year’s time,_ though not as charged as it had been before.

“We will talk about this,” he said, “but not now, not while it’s fresh.” He laid a hand on Ardyn’s knee beside him, gripping gently, enough to be a concrete reassurance.

Ardyn set his jaw, sighing through his nose before meeting Gilgamesh’s gaze. “All right.” He gave a little nod, lips curling into a reluctant grin, a child who’d been caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. He placed his hand over Gilgamesh’s, curling slightly to grip around the back of his hand.

For a while they just sat, side by side, conversing and drinking and occasionally snatching something off the tray. Ardyn was animated and at ease, his smile lighter than Gilgamesh had seen in months, and his joviality was infectious (though Gilgamesh suspected the wine may have acted like a catalyst). Ardyn downed one glass with ease, refilling his before topping Gilgamesh’s own half-empty cup off, and Gilgamesh could already see the hints of a flush on his face, caught by the firelight from inside that drifted through the open doors.

“Maybe that water would’ve been a good idea,” Gilgamesh commented when Ardyn reached for one of the berries on the tray and fumbled with it.

“Nonsense,” Ardyn said, dismissing the notion with a flick of his hand before he reached for another berry. “I like my wine strong enough to knock me off my feet.”

Gilgamesh cocked a brow as Ardyn sidled closer to him, their shoulders touching. “I also happen to like my men the same way.” He set his cup down next to Gilgamesh’s leg, and then leaned in, asking for a kiss, one arm looped around Gilgamesh’s shoulders to support himself. Without bothering to rest his cup somewhere, Gilgamesh leaned down, indulging Ardyn with a languid, open mouthed kiss. He tasted like the wine, sweet and biting, panting into Gilgamesh’s mouth after a moment as their tongues slid past one another.

Gripping Ardyn at the waist, Gilgamesh swung him to sit astride his lap, Ardyn resting on one thigh, his legs draped over the other, arm still around the back of Gilgamesh’s shoulders. Once they settled, Gilgamesh kissed him again, slow, trailing his lips along Ardyn’s jaw as he worked his way to his mouth, the hands on his waist slowly picking apart the ties to the upper portions of his robes. Working his way down, he kissed Ardyn’s throat, worrying a mark into his skin as he made enough room to slip his hand into Ardyn’s robes, fingers skimming up and down his ribs.  

He claimed Ardyn’s mouth again after a moment, swallowing down his moan as Gilgamesh ran his thumb over his nipple before pinching and teasing it, Ardyn arching against him. They were both flushed now, from the excitement and the alcohol, and as they broke Ardyn reached for one of their cups, snickering as he took a hefty draw from it before holding the glass to Gilgamesh’s lips.

Gilgamesh withdrew his hand from Ardyn’s robes as Ardyn shifted in his lap, setting the cup down, sighing as Gilgamesh pressed his face back into the hollow of Ardyn’s throat. He licked a hot stripe up over his Adam’s apple as Ardyn dug his fingers into Gilgamesh’s shoulders, tipping his head back to bare his neck further. Ardyn tasted of tallow soap and salt, his hair smelling faintly of olive oil, and Gilgamesh knew he’d spent a long time soaking in the bath just before dinner, no doubt to get the last traces of grape off him from their earlier venture.

Sliding his hand up further, Gilgamesh tugged Ardyn’s robes open further, until they were half-hanging about his torso, one shoulder bare, the cloth looped to the side of it. He looked undone already, his hair more askew than normal, flushed, a bruise already forming on his neck, his lips red and slick from their kisses, robes a wrinkled, tangled mess. Gilgamesh adored seeing him like this, needy and wanton, loved peeling back his layers of propriety to leave him gasping and moaning.

Ardyn kissed him on the mouth again, Gilgamesh’s hand dropping down to push the lower half of his robes open, tossing the fabric aside to run his hand up one of Ardyn’s legs, kneading his upper thigh, just below his cock. Ardyn keened softly, pressing his face into the juncture of Gilgamesh’s shoulder and neck as Gilgamesh traced thick fingers up the hot length of his cock, stopping at the thick curls at the base. He was stiff already, fidgeting, hips jerking as Gilgamesh teased his cock with light touches, ghosting his fingers over Ardyn’s length. Gilgamesh could feel himself getting hard just from Ardyn’s reactions, from his little groans and sighs, from how he turned into Gilgamesh’s touch, from how his expression melted from playfulness into neediness.

He sucked in a quick breath when Gilgamesh wrapped a loose fist around his shaft, stroking him, Ardyn rolling his hips in an effort to get more friction on his cock. Ardyn shifted against him, teeth grazing against Gilgamesh’s neck as he moaned, fingers tangling in Gilgamesh’s long black locks and pulling slightly. The sound sent a little jolt of pleasure straight through Gilgamesh, his cock jerking in his pants, pressing up against the underside of Ardyn’s thigh.

Gilgamesh let him chase his pleasure for a few moments, Ardyn grinding his hips into his hand, unhurried little rolls of his hips, until Gilgamesh uncurled his hand, slipping his fingers instead below his cock, tracing along his perineum. Ardyn gasped when Gilgamesh’s fingertips pressed up against his hole, dry, just rubbing a light circle against his pucker. His thighs tensed, one hand grabbing a fistful of the front of Gilgamesh’s tunic, muffling his moans into Gilgamesh’s shoulder as his legs fell open wider.

After a few more teasing touches, Gilgamesh withdrew his hand, cupping Ardyn’s balls and squeezing lightly before skimming his fingers down his cock once more, finding the head wet and leaking. By everything that was _holy_ , Gilgamesh was ready to get them into bed, to untangle Ardyn from his robes and lavish affection on every inch of him.

Almost growling, he looped an arm under Ardyn’s legs, the other still at his waist, and shifted, bringing his legs beneath him to push up onto his knees, carrying Ardyn in his arms. Ardyn clung to him, probably embarrassed at being carried like a maiden, but said nothing other than a soft, “ _Oh_ ” as Gilgamesh stood, turning, careful not to knock the decanter or amphore aside as he strode into the room.

Ardyn wasn’t much weight in his arms, and Gilgamesh made it to the bed with ease, sliding one knee onto the mattress before depositing Ardyn down onto it, laying him out with his head near the pillows. Ardyn reached up as Gilgamesh climbed on top of him, sitting astride Ardyn and propping himself up on his elbows on either side of Ardyn’s head, dipping his head down to kiss him as Ardyn looped his arms around his neck.

Ardyn’s deft fingers pulled free the cord tying Gilgamesh’s hair back, his black locks tumbling free, sliding down over his shoulder, cascading into his face and caging them. Ardyn snaked his digits through Gilgamesh’s long, wild hair as he worked his way down, kissing over Ardyn’s neck, down to his collarbone. The robes were finally pulled open, a few rough tugs undoing the last of it, Gilgamesh unwinding them over Ardyn’s shoulder to bare his chest.

Sitting back onto Ardyn’s thighs, Gilgamesh ran his hands up Ardyn’s torso, squeezing lightly, mapping out all the dips and ridges of his musculature. He was broad, not as broad as Gilgamesh was, but still a man of notable stature, one kept fit despite his rather soft vocation, his chest an expanse of rather substantial muscle, his pectorals dusted over with auburn hair that ran down over his stomach in a narrow trail.  Ardyn sighed, tilting his head, his eyes half-lowered, cheeks flushed, hair spread out in a wild tangle onto the pillows, one hand cast to the side, the other slowly tracing nothings on the outside of Gilgamesh’s knee.

Slowly Gilgamesh worked his way back down, flicking his thumbs over Ardyn’s nipples, pausing to run his fingers over the hair on his stomach, before reaching his hipbones, the lowest area free from his clothing. Seeking to remedy that, Gilgamesh shifted back, kneeling between Ardyn’s legs and urgently pulling the lower half of his robes open and exposing his legs, tossing the folds to either side of him, the garment now spread out beneath Ardyn.

Almost without thinking, as if it were instinct, Gilgamesh ran his hands up Ardyn’s thighs, through the soft hair that covered them, from just above his knees all the way up to his hips, before skimming them back down, thumbs skirting along the insides. Ardyn’s cock was resting against his thigh, justting from a little thatch of dark red curls, the foreskin half pulled back of the red, leaking head. In an almost exploratory fashion, even though he’d done this countless times before, Gilgamesh curled a hand around Ardyn’s cock, sliding his foreskin back to expose the head, rubbing his thumb over the wet slit.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” Ardyn said breathily, “to be doing that.”

Chuckling, Gilgamesh leaned back, sitting on his heels as he undid the sash around his tunic and let it fall to the bed beside them before lifting his shirt at the hem, pulling it over his head and shoulders.

“Better?” he asked, twisting the garment in his hands, savoring how Ardyn looked at him.

“A bit,” Ardyn replied. “You may proceed.” His grin was cheeky, catlike, and he rubbed his lower leg against the side of Gilgamesh’s thigh.

Gilgamesh leaned back down over him, grasping and fisting his cock while he laid a trail of wet kisses and nips down Ardyn’s chest, starting from his breastbone and working southward. He stopped just above Ardyn’s cock, flicking his gaze up to catch Ardyn’s expression, brows drawn in want, hair askew, plaits falling into his face, kiss-reddened lips slightly parted in anticipation.

But Gilgamesh could keep him waiting a bit longer.

He dragged his teeth over Ardyn’s hipbone, nipping slightly, and then pushed his thighs open wider, settling between them, hands placed just above Ardyn’s knees on either side. Tenderly he kissed a stripe up Ardyn’s thigh, stopping near the top, letting him squirm for a moment while he worried a mark into his skin, laving his tongue over the bruise once he had finished.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Gilgamesh leaned over Ardyn, in an almost predatory fashion, smoothing his hand out over his hip, eyeing his cock lying flat against his stomach. Tongue peeking out between his lips, Gilgamesh dipped his head and trailed his mouth up the length of Ardyn’s cock, from base to head, Ardyn drawing in a sharp, deep breath and fidgeting slightly. Gilgamesh laid one broad hand on his lower stomach, the other curled around the base of Ardyn’s cock, his forearm across Ardyn’s thigh to keep him down.

Without further preamble, Gilgamesh licked a wide stripe over the head of Ardyn’s cock, and then shallowly slid him into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as Ardyn closed his eyes and groaned, deep in his chest. Ardyn was a little salty and bitter on his tongue, Gilgamesh easing him deeper with each bob of his head, squeezing the base of his cock in time with his motions. A moment later Ardyn’s hand was in his hair, pushing black locks back from Gilgamesh’s face, fingers curling around the back of his head.

Gilgamesh could feel Ardyn’s stomach tensing with each stroke, his cock now fully hard, occasionally twitching in Gilgamesh’s grasp. Pulling off Ardyn for a moment, Gilgamesh stroked his cock with his one fist, slick with a mess of spit and precome, while his other hand reached to undo the ties of his own trousers and shove them down enough to free his own erection.

One hand now stroking his own length, Gilgamesh laved his tongue over the head of Ardyn’s cock once more, before taking him back into his mouth, deep enough that the tip of Ardyn’s cock nearly touched the back of his throat. Ardyn made an awkward little whimper at that, his thighs splaying open just a bit further as he no doubt tried to keep his hips still. That little sound spurred Gilgamesh on, pleasure jolting through him, and he jerked his cock to the same rhythm that he bobbed his head.

Ardyn swallowed thickly, looking down at Gilgamesh somewhat expectantly, his expression unabashedly needy, Gilgamesh’s hand still tracing little shapes on his thigh as he slowed his motions, pressing his tongue up against the bottom of Ardyn’s cock. He hollowed his cheeks further, more intent on getting Ardyn to finish, his motions more deliberate. Flicking his gaze up to meet Ardyn’s, Gilgamesh slid his arm off Ardyn’s thigh as they shared a look of acknowledgement.

Testingly, Ardyn curled a hand around the back of Gilgamesh’s head, tangled deeply in his hair, and carefully pushed his hips up in time with Gilgamesh’s rhythm, inching his cock just a bit deeper down Gilgamesh’s throat. Gilgamesh moaned in response, squeezing his own cock tighter, a pang of arousal hitting him as Ardyn repeated his motion. As much as Gilgamesh loved to ply Ardyn with attention and pleasure, letting him seek it like this was just as satisfying, watching Ardyn come undone as he used Gilgamesh as a catalyst for his own pleasure.

It didn’t take much more for him to find it, just another minute of minute rolls of his hips, fingers clenching and unclenching in Gilgamesh’s hair, thighs quivering as he pushed his cock down Gilgamesh’s throat, moaning all the while and then Ardyn was tensing up, shuddering for just a second as he finished with a surprised gasp. Bitter, salty fluid hit Gilgamesh’s tongue, and he swallowed, gagging slightly from the position of Ardyn’s cock in his mouth and feeling the awkward mess of drool and finish leaking from the corner of his mouth, but he stayed in place until Ardyn’s grip in his hair went slack.

Gilgamesh pulled back, letting Ardyn’s softening cock slip from his mouth to lay against his stomach, connected to his lips for just a moment by gossamer threads of spit and come. Wiping his mouth with the base of his thumb, Gilgamesh pushed himself up to a half-sitting position, his own cock throbbing almost unbearably between his legs. Ardyn took a moment, blinking, the focus coming back to his stare, and he propped himself up onto his elbows.

He glanced at Gilgamesh for a moment, starting at his face before Ardyn’s gaze dropped down between Gilgamesh’s legs, eyeing his hard cock. Ardyn sat up without further preamble, drawing close to Gilgamesh, legs folded beneath him, one hand placed on the side of his face as Ardyn leaned in for a kiss while the other curled around his erection.

Gilgamesh bucked into his touch, groaning softly into Ardyn’s embrace, Ardyn eagerly pushing against him, sliding his tongue deeper into Gilgamesh’s mouth. He shifted, hands now coming to rest at the loose waistband of Gilgamesh’s trousers, pushing them down as much as he could with Gilgamesh seated.

“Take these off,” Ardyn murmured, part request, part order. Gilgamesh shoved them down, rolling his hips to lift them and clear his thighs, then shoved them down over his knees before kicking them the rest of the way off.

“Happy?”

“Much obliged,” Ardyn said breathily, throwing his arms over Gilgamesh’s shoulders as he climbed into his lap, sitting astride him, Gilgamesh’s cock pressed between their bodies. He couldn’t resist grinding against Ardyn’s stomach as Ardyn settled against him, Ardyn chuckling softly in response to his eagerness, rolling his own hips to match.

For a bit they just traded slow kisses and thrusts like this, cocks brushing against one another, Gilgamesh’s hands resting on Ardyn’s waist, thumbs flicking over his hip bones, while Ardyn tangled thick, black locks between his digits. Eventually Ardyn, his cock hard once more and clearly ready to do something about that, reached for one of Gilgamesh’s hands, guiding it further back, sliding it low over Ardyn’s ass. Gilgamesh moved his other hand in parallel, both of them cupping just under the swell of Ardyn’s ass.

Ardyn panted against Gilgamesh’s neck, open mouthed, breath hot on his skin, as Gilgamesh kneaded the globes of his ass, appraising, Ardyn rolling his hips to grind their cocks together, as if to gently remind Gilgamesh that he was _hard_ and _ready._ Boldly, Gilgamesh slipped a finger along the groove of Ardyn’s ass, seeking out his hole, pressing against it, tracing a circle around the tight ring of muscle. Ardyn bucked up against him with a frustrated little grunt, as if trying to pull away from the touch, but a second later he shifted his hips, arching his back slightly and digging his fingers into Gilgamesh’s shoulders as he nearly presented himself.

“We need─” Gilgamesh started, Ardyn whining into his skin, flustered, nipping Gilgamesh’s throat before grunting softly and leaning back. He pulled his leg in, extracting himself from Gilgamesh’s lap and rising from the bed, padding over to the long table beside the balcony doors, his cock standing at attention between his thighs.

Gilgamesh rested back on his palms for a moment while Ardyn picked through the clay bottles there, selecting a tall, thin one with a cork stopper. It held oil, Gilgamesh knew, lightly scented, the kind those here were so fond of using for their skin and hair, the kind he combed through his tresses each morning to blend a little better into this culture.

Ardyn padded back over to the bed, bottle in hand as he climbed back into Gilgamesh’s lap. “That was poor planning on both our parts,” he said, handing off the bottle as he leaned back down for a kiss, accompanied by a long, slow undulation of his hips, sending a prickle up Gilgamesh’s spine from his cock.

Gilgamesh uncorked the bottle, Ardyn leaning back to create a bit of space between them for him to move, and then poured a bit onto his fingers, flicking his gaze up to meet Ardyn’s deviously eager expression, lower lip caught between his teeth. He leaned back in as Gilgamesh replaced the cork and set the bottle to the side, arching his back and jutting his ass out as he nestled his face against the side of Gilgamesh’s neck.

Ardyn groaned at the first press of a fingertip to his hole, Gilgamesh grinning, savoring how Ardyn twitched in response. He rubbed his finger back and forth over the tight pucker for a moment, teasing, one of Ardyn’s hands rhythmically squeezing his shoulder while the other dropped between them, cupping Gilgamesh’s pectoral, flicking a thumb over his nipple.

After tormenting him a moment longer, Gilgamesh roughly dipped his finger in, Ardyn hissing in response. He was tight despite his eagerness, squeezing down on Gilgamesh’s finger as he eased it in and out, sliding deeper with each motion, until his finger was well past the second knuckle. Ardyn moaned softly as Gilgamesh began to fuck him with it in earnest, his other hand slowly kneading Ardyn’s asscheek, pulling it slightly for better access, leaving Ardyn open and exposed, though he couldn’t appreciate the sight seated as they were.

Eventually Ardyn relaxed enough that Gilgamesh’s finger moved smoothly, Ardyn jerking his hips in a silent plea for _more,_ jutting his ass out as his hand dropped to grip their cocks. With their foreheads nearly pressed together, Ardyn looking Gilgamesh straight in the eye, Gilgamesh drew his finger out, pressing two back to Ardyn’s hole, eased both inside and stretching Ardyn further. Ardyn shut his eyes, mouth slightly agape, brow furrowed, grunting in satisfaction as both slipped in to the second knuckle.

Gilgamesh scissored his fingers past one another, pushing against the rim of Ardyn’s hole, before driving his two fingers in as deep as he could get them. Ardyn gasped, breaking off into a grunt, his hand squeezing both of their cocks tightly together, and Gilgamesh could feel how hard he was. His own cock was leaking profusely, throbbing, tempted by the thought of how tight and hot Ardyn was, how snugly his ass gripped his cock once he was inside, and how easy it would be to just lay him back and push inside him.

Ardyn’s hole clenched around Gilgamesh’s fingers, and he drew them out before shoving them back in, setting a quick, furtive rhythm, occasionally twisting them to further stretch Ardyn. “You like this?” he murmured, watching Ardyn’s body tense and relax with each thrust, his hand languidly working their cocks with firm pulls.

“Yes,” Ardyn replied breathily. “But I’d prefer your cock.”

“Patience,” Gilgamesh chided, pulling Ardyn’s asscheek further to the side, to remind him how wanton and eager he looked with two of Gilgamesh’s thick fingers stuffed up inside him, rocking back with clear desire for more.

“Patience was never one of my strong points,” Ardyn said, licking a line over Gilgamesh’s throat, the tip of his tongue trailing up to his jawline before he lightly sank his teeth in.

Gilgamesh withdrew his fingers, lightly skimming over Ardyn’s rim before pulling his hand back to squeeze both cheeks of his ass roughly, until he firmly gripped one, holding him open once more as he ghosted three fingertips over Ardyn’s hole, tracing a slow circle around it.

Ardyn _cursed_ as he pushed them in, a hot whisper of _“Fuck,”_ uttered against Gilgamesh’s skin, his grip faltering on their cocks for a moment, his hole clenching down around Gilgamesh’s fingers. He drew in a sharp breath, breaking off into a moan as Gilgamesh gently slipped them in to the second knuckle, twisting them inside Ardyn, and Gilgamesh felt Ardyn’s cock twitch where it was pressed along his own.

Gilgamesh eased them in further, fucking Ardyn in long, even strokes, trying to reach as deeply as he could with each stroke, Ardyn’s hips jerking occasionally as he brushed that spot inside him, the one that made Ardyn fall silent, slack jawed, eyes glazed over with pleasure when teased. Their position was a bit awkward to find it; it was easier with Ardyn on his back and Gilgamesh between his legs, or with Ardyn’s face and shoulders pressed into the sheets, ass presented to him, but Gilgamesh had toyed with him enough times to find it anyway. He pressed down with the tops of his fingers as he drew them out, feeling for the hard little lump, knowing he’d found it when Ardyn jerked in his grasp, groaning.

Gilgamesh held his fingers there, let Ardyn rock his hips back and forth, his cock leaking profusely, hand falling still as he sought pleasure from another spot. Taking him apart like this was always a thrill, teasing and spoiling him and plying him with pleasure until Ardyn couldn’t move, and Gilgamesh felt the blood rush south as Ardyn writhed against him.

After a moment of letting Ardyn squirm, Gilgamesh resumed fucking him, driving his fingers into that spot as Ardyn went slack and pliant in his arms, his hole occasionally bearing down on Gilgamesh’s thick fingers stretching him open. Ardyn resumed pumping their cocks, now rather slick with precome, his fist making a lurid squelch with each motion.

Unable to resist, Gilgamesh slid in his last finger beside the three others, Ardyn letting out a stuttering sigh as he was stretched just that little bit further. He rocked their hips together before pushing back onto Gilgamesh’s fingers, seeking friction on both points, tiny pants and groans tumbling from his lips as he gradually picked up his pace.

Gilgamesh pushed his digits into Ardyn, up to the last knuckle, almost deviously, Ardyn gasping in response as his hole fluttered around those thick fingers, Gilgamesh holding them there until Ardyn stopped spasming. When he was moving once more, hand jerking their cocks as he undulated his hips, Gilgamesh slid his fingers out, cupping under Ardyn’s ass, encouraging him to raise up. Ardyn hardly needed it; he was on his knees almost instantly, reaching to guide Gilgamesh’s cock behind him as he eased him slightly back with a hand on his shoulder.

Reaching behind himself, Ardyn guided Gilgamesh’s cock into the groove of his ass, Gilgamesh groaning at the contact, his hips bucking up slightly, eager for more. He ran the head of Gilgamesh’s cock against his hole as he worked his hips up and down, catching on the rim slightly, both of them grunting at the contact. Gilgamesh settled one hand on Ardyn’s hips in a firm grasp, taking back control, his other hand sneaking around to press the head of his cock to Ardyn’s hole, breaching him.

Ardyn cursed again as Gilgamesh eased the fat head of his cock inside, his hole clenching at the intrusion, Gilgamesh running his fingers along Ardyn’s stretched, puffy rim. He was hot and impossibly tight, and it took all of Gilgamesh’s self control not to buck his hips up into Ardyn, craving more of that contact. Slowly, with little grunts and harsh breaths, Ardyn eased himself down, rocking in little motions and letting his weight spear him onto Gilgamesh’s erection, as Gilgamesh kept himself still, occasionally closing his eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

Eventually, with a satisfied little moan, their hips met, Ardyn’s ass flush against the tops of Gilgamesh’s thighs. He tipped his head back, hair falling into his face, exposing the long column of his throat, and Gilgamesh surged forward to graze his teeth along it, running his hands up Ardyn’s thighs to his waist. Ardyn sighed, wriggling slightly, pushing himself a bit further down, Gilgamesh involuntarily snapping his hips up into him.

Desperate, they moved against one another, negotiating a rhythm, Ardyn drawing up and then pushing back down as Gilgamesh thrust up into him, lying balanced back on one elbow, legs drawn up slightly for leverage. It was slow at first, each thrust nearly overpowering, Ardyn’s looking down at Gilgamesh with pure want as Gilgamesh teased his torso with his free hand, tweaking Ardyn’s nipples, running his fingers through the hair on his chest, raking his nails over Ardyn’s taut stomach.

Curiously Ardyn ran his fingers over Gilgamesh’s own chest, knuckles skimming over an old scar here and there, brushing over the dark, hard nubs of his nipples, tracing under his pectorals, before trailing up to his neck, holding him still as Ardyn bent down for a long, wet, messy kiss, moaning unabashedly into his mouth.

Bracing himself on Gilgamesh’s shoulders, Ardyn moved faster, fucking himself down with abandon. His cock was hard and red, bouncing with each thrust, the tip drooling steadily, leaking a clear puddle into Gilgamesh’s stomach. Gilgamesh returned his hand to Ardyn’s hip, anchoring him there once more, using his grip to pull Ardyn down a bit further with each stroke, feeling the pleasure build in his lower stomach. Above him, Ardyn was panting and groaning with abandon, occasionally uttering a curse or a little whimper of _“more”_ or _“please_ ” or “ _good,_ ” once _“harder,”_ at which Gilgamesh had gladly obliged him.

Ardyn was hot and slick, the friction on Gilgamesh’s cock incredible, and he couldn’t help but tense his stomach and drive up into him as Ardyn speared himself down. Gilgamesh let his gaze wander from Ardyn’s face, expression twisted in ecstasy, down over his chest to where his hand sat at Ardyn’s hip, dark, tan skin laid against Ardyn’s paler hue, the difference in their skin tones clear even in the low firelight. In truth he loved that contrast between them, loved how starkly different they were, loved seeing Ardyn’s pale hands on his chest or watching his own dark fingers and cock sink into Ardyn’s body.

Gilgamesh pistoned his hips up harder with every stroke, doing his best to drive against that spot in Ardyn, who whimpered and loosely curled a hand around his own cock, fisting himself. His thumb swiped over the head, smearing the fluid there, and Gilgamesh found the sight incredibly erotic, Ardyn’s gaze half lidded in pleasure, his hair falling into his face, brows drawn tight, mouth agape, all of him wound so tightly as he sought release, hand working his cock as he urgently shoved his hips down.

Clamping his hand down tighter, Gilgamesh continued to snap his hips up into Ardyn, chasing his own release as well. He could feel Ardyn’s thighs beginning to shake on either side of him, Ardyn bearing down on Gilgamesh’s cock inside him when he drove in particularly deep. They were both tense and taught, close to the edge as Gilgamesh pounded up into Ardyn’s tight hole.

It didn’t take much more to cross that line, Ardyn tensing up and letting out a flustered noise between a grunt and a whine as he finished, cock jerking in his grip, white streaks of hot come spilling over his fingers and streaking Gilgamesh’s chest. He squeezed down on Gilgamesh’s cock like a vice, Gilgamesh squeezing his eyes shut, overwhelmed at the added tightness, his own orgasm nearly on him.

With a few final, stuttering, jerky thrusts, Gilgamesh found himself tumbling over the edge, staring up at Ardyn who was still at the midst of his fog, gaze distant, whimpering as Gilgamesh spent inside him. His orgasm hit him like a hammer, a white hot flash of pleasure emanating from his lower stomach, thighs tensing, his cock spasming, buried deep in Ardyn.

Overwhelmed, Gilgamesh let himself drop, lying flat on his back, Ardyn’s palms resting on his chest as he supported himself. After a moment he shifted them to bracket Gilgamesh’s face, sitting astride his waist, still joined with Gilgamesh’s cock buried in him. Their noses were nearly touching, Ardyn’s eyes still blown wide from pleasure, his irses a thin gold ring around deep black pupils, and he was grinning affectionately, holding just a moment before craning his neck down a little further to kiss Gilgamesh.

“I don’t know what was in that wine,” Ardyn said, running his thumb over Gilgamesh’s full lower lip, “but I will find _every_ amphore we have of it on hand.”

Gilgamesh laughed, surging up to bury his face in the juncture of Ardyn’s neck and shoulder, biting him lightly as Ardyn grunted and then chuckled himself. They stayed like that for a minute longer, until Ardyn pushed himself up and drew back, climbing off Gilgamesh, his softening cock slipping from Ardyn’s body. As Ardyn laid out beside him, curled on one side with an arm pillowed beneath his head, Gilgamesh sat up himself, ignoring the mess smeared on his chest, instead focused on the sight of Ardyn stretched out on the bed.

Briefly running his hand down Ardyn’s lower leg, Gilgamesh traced little nothings at his ankle, and then stood, taking a few steps towards the balcony doors. He heard the bed creak, Ardyn propping himself up in his periphery.

“Where are you going?” he asked, mild surprise apparent in his voice.

Gilgamesh crossed the threshold, leaning down to retrieve their tray, picking it up and carrying it back inside before setting it on the table near the doors. He pulled a few dried dates from it, popping one in his mouth as Ardyn cocked a brow, staring at him incredulously.

“Did you get out of bed with me for some _figs_?”

“Dates,” Gilgamesh corrected. “Do you want the figs?”

“No.” Ardyn shook his head, smiling, rolling his eyes slightly.

After a moment, he added, “I will take a date, however.”

Gilgamesh plucked another from the tray before walking back to the bed, handing it to Ardyn as he sat down, one foot still planted on the floor, his other leg curled beneath him. Casually, Ardyn snapped the date into his mouth, laying back and settling onto the pillows like a large, sated cat.

Gilgamesh gave him a moment before he ran his hand appraisingly over Ardyn’s leg, up over his calf, to the back of his knee, and up his thigh, stopping at his hip as he leaned forward and sliding across the bed to lie beside him, hand still tracing nothings on Ardyn’s skin. For a few minutes they just laid like that, one of Ardyn’s hands resting on Gilgamesh’s neck at his pulse point, sharing the occasional glance and smile, just savoring the closeness of being beside one another.

“Did you mean what you said yesterday?” Ardyn murmured almost absentmindedly, tapping his fingers against Gilgamesh’s skin. “About a future for us?”

Gilgamesh drew his hand in, finding Ardyn’s and interlocking their fingers. “Of course,” he replied, vague concern in his tone. “Why?”

Ardyn shrugged, his expression distant, silent for a long beat. “It’s something I’ve always wanted but just can never quite… entertain for myself,” he admitted quietly. Nervously, he looked Gilgamesh in the eye, and Gilgamesh felt him tense, mouth pulled down at the corners.

Gilgamesh was silent for a moment, processing Ardyn’s confession as he squeezed his hand just a hair tighter. It was like the last haunting piece of a puzzle, the keystone set at the top of an arch, shedding the last bit of light on everything between them, and the realization felt like a knife to his heart, shoved up under his ribs, strong and sharp enough to still the breath in his lungs.

“Then let me tell you about it,” Gilgamesh said, tucking Ardyn just a bit closer to him.


End file.
